Revelations
by Mischieviant
Summary: The last days. [VinTi]
1. The Bells No Longer Toll

**Revelations**

Disclaimer; I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of it's characters, etc.

This is set after the game and the movie, just forget DoC ever happened when you read this. Thank you.

**Chapter 1: The Bells No Longer Toll For Those That Are Forgotten  
**

1

It had been three days.

The cape-clad nightmare wasn't sure when he would reveal himself, but he knew now was not the time. It would be soon, but not just yet.

_Soon,_ he told himself. He itched to pounce.

He had yet to discover their bounty, but that was only a matter of time. A dark smile twisted his lips as he continued to survey their campsite from a shadowed canopy, not three metres from the nearest soldier.

They had progressed too quickly and were much too organised for opportunists, their black fatigues and all too familiar insignia marking them as more than just the average country travellers. And while travellers in these times often carried some form of weapon, he had seen none with suppressed semi-automatics strapped to their hips.

They where following orders, there was no question or doubt as to their next destination each dawn when they moved on. They never spoke to each other either, it was making his task most difficult. But more enjoyable.

.  
He would have to strike tonight, they had gotten far-enough and still nothing useful had slipped. The sinister smile he wore twisted further. Interrogation was not a skill, it was a talent. A talent he prided himself with. He could call the most ridiculous of bluffs with his hardened looks, but he could _always _smell a liar. And a rat.

And _his_ rat was the man sitting closest to his current perch in a tattered oak. He wasn't aware what made this man stand out, being the same in every aspect of appearance as the others, but this hunter had learned long ago (from his father of all people) to trust his instincts. That man would be the one to break; he wasn't sure how he knew, he just did.

.  
This was the first night they had lit a fire, the first night they had been under cover of the forest canopy since the beginning of their journey. And it would be their last. The man in the shadows waited, watched and itched.

As the fire died three of the seven had slipped into sleep, a soft snore whistling from the one slouched against the base of the tree.

Soon it was four. Five. Six. The last was the largest, and from what he had observed the biggest threat. The man was looking around at the shadows too suspiciously for what he had tagged as oblivious prey. Then, too direct for coincidence, he looked up into the trees, and stared intently into the eyes of the shadow-man.

_Fuck_, the shadow's hand, always at his holster, twitched. He waited for the man to draw his weapon. Watched his hand fall down to his semi-automatic and rest upon the butt, all the time staring straight into the tree.

A moment before he jumped the man looked away, and the shadow let out a breath he hadn't meant to hold. _He senses me and it makes him uneasy, he knows, he's just too stupid to realise. _The shadow-man watched as the soldier took one last look around and then sat at the base of another tree, soon he too was asleep. And an hour later they were dead to the world. It was too easy, like candy from a baby; but a baby sporting a shiny new fire-arm.

They obviously weren't expecting to be followed or a watch would have been posted, but then again everyone thought this organisation was long gone. No-one would be looking for them, no-one but him that is. _He_ knew it was too easy, the world would never get rid of scum like this, as soon as one is scrubbed out the next surfaces like the untreatable spores of a fungus.

Time to scratch that itch.

.  
The cloaked man swooped down from the branch and lifted a nearby pack. Nothing of use. He dropped it and searched through the pockets of the nearest soldier. He watched the soldier's face as he pulled a small tattered envelope from the breast pocket, just as it fell free of the cloth the soldier's eyes ripped open and his hand grabbed the invading wrist. _Shit._

He un-holstered Cerberus.

2

It was cold, wet and the third time she'd had her head in the toilet. Half asleep, half hung-over, she clambered down the stairs.

Tifa could feel the acidic bile rising from her empty stomach, the room was still spinning, and she felt like shit. She paused rubbing her gut, mumbling as to why she'd bothered to get out of bed. But after ignoring the frantic banging for an hour, and deciding it wasn't just her head playing the drunken drums, she knew it wasn't going to go away.

Three minutes later she'd been forced to run to the bathroom anyway (she didn't want warm chunks of vodka on the bedroom carpet) deciding while she was up she should tell whoever was at the door to take a hike. _I hope it's the grim reaper here to collect my drunken ass, only the dead could feel this rough. _She was what Cloud liked to call a 'light-weight' when it came to alcohol.

.  
The staircase spun and blurred, but she made it to the bar below where she steadied herself. The pounding on the door stopped and the drums in her head got louder. It was dark, dirty glasses still littered the coffee table in the corner. The empty vodka bottle had fallen to the rug beneath and a small pool of water had collected at the doorway. Another leak.

She could smell putrid vomit and stale alcohol on her breath. The going away party was a bad idea. A scuffling sound could be heard under the doorway, whoever it was, was still there. It couldn't be Cloud, she knew he'd be away for the next two weeks at least and he would have used his key. Everyone else she knew would leave it to a decent hour, even Cid. He wouldn't drag his ass out of bed for anything more than alcohol and cigarettes.

She almost fell asleep standing when the banging started again, this time louder. The door shook as though a stampede of rabid animals where trying to break it down. _Who in hell knocks on someone's door _that_ loudly at four o'clock in the morning? If it's that old bat from next door come to complain about the noise again, I swear to God I'm going to stick my fist in her mouth._

The white paint was peeling off the door with each thump. Thump, thump, thump. Whoever it was wanted in badly. The drunken feeling had lessened. She reached for Denzel's rickety baseball bat that stood in the corner and edged toward the door. Closer and closer. The thumping came harder and harder. She reached for the key in the rusty lock.

The second her fingertip touched the cool metal the thumping stopped. Silence, except for that terrible scuffling. Turning the key, she stepped back, raising the bat with white-knuckled grip. "It's open!"

The door didn't open and the scuffling had stopped.

Water continued to drop into the puddle on the floor.

A third hand grabbed the bat. A damp musky scent permeated the presence. With a gasp the bartender sent her knee into the mans groin and he jerked backwards with a grunt, letting the bat clatter to the floor, cracking a tile with its weight. Intending to lunge at him, fists balled, she threw herself into a jump.

One foot slipped on the puddle and she landed face-first with a bone-crunching crack on the grey slate tiles, the bone in her nose snapping loudly and almost coming through the skin like some mutilated piercing. As the room darkened she felt her weight pulled from the floor and her back meeting the granite surface of the bar-top.

3

She didn't worry some burglar might make off with her furniture and profits, didn't worry someone might break into her office steal her personal documents, she didn't even worry some psycho might rape or murder her, or both. She was just too damn tired to give a shit. She was aware of hot droplets on her face and the feeling of cotton wool stuffed in her ears; a buzzing hum filled her head.

Then a sharp clapping sting and searing heat brought her back to reality.

She clutched her cheek and sat up, "WHAT WAS THAT FO- _Vincent?_"

The drunken feeling had completely dissipated.

"You might have a concussion, stay awake." The cape-clad man was dripping rainwater over the floor and the bar-top. Sopping wet, black hair stuck to his pale cheeks. He appeared unusually dishevelled and his face wore a wind-beaten blush.

"What are you doing here?" He ignored her and walked into the back room. Another droplet landed in the smeared puddle. She could smell the stink of tepid rainwater in her damp pyjamas and wasn't sure if the pounding headache was from the hangover or the fall.

The hung-over bartender touched her nose, flinched and tried not to sniff up the blood dripping from it like a tap that just refuses to stop. It throbbed, feeling grossly exaggerated and numb. He entered the room again with an armful of tissue, cotton swabs and aspirin. Tifa watched each drip land on the floor as he walked around the bar, he looked like a stray shaggy dog. But Vincent Valentine was just so proper, she found it hard to imagine him on all fours, shaking water everywhere.

He stared at her with a clearly unamused expression when she burst into laughter, effectively sticking a cork in her bubbling hysterics. "Hold still, it's broken, I need to set the bone." In one loud crack and an even louder scream the bone that had been sticking out to the side of her smashed nose clicked back into alignment. He quickly stuffed pieces of tissue into each nostril.

Tifa swung for him., growling, "You prick!"

He ducked.

Vincent stood straight, grabbed her palm and slammed the painkillers into them, pushing a glass of water into the other. "You're going to have a black eye, perhaps two."

Without asking he began to swab the blood off her face, now clammy and flushed with either hangover or anger. He wasn't sure which but he could smell stale alcohol and vomit from her breath. Vincent knew not to speak until she was calm, he didn't want to set her off on one again. She wasn't normally so unpleasant and irrational but he figured she'd had a bit of a rough night.

"How did you get in?" He didn't miss the biting tone.

"You should lock the back door. There are dangerous people about at this time of night."

She looked, if it was possible, embarrassed, enraged, and insulted at the same time. He shrugged. "Have you seen anyone suspicious around lately? Or spoke to any _old _friends?"

"What? No, why? … what do you mean by _old_ fri- Why are you here at this time of night anyway? and _what the hell _possessed you to sneak in back? You scared the-"

"You didn't answer the door." She sniffed at the tissues. She could hear the smile in his voice, and wanted nothing more than to punch it out, like kinks in metal.

"It was four o'cl-" Vincent threw the bloodied cotton swabs into the bin.

"Nevermind what I meant, I acquired some information." He sounded angry, but Tifa knew it wasn't at her. She noticed an odd bulge in his cloak pocket. The tattered rag looked ready to burst under the strain.

"What information? What does it have to do with me and what is that in your-" She raised a hand to point, but almost toppled, so settled for nodding her head at it instead.

"I think I should show you, I'm not quite certain myself." He produced a beige business envelope, sopping wet and peeling in furred layers from the corners. Then, like the rabbit from the magician's hat, he reached in once more and pulled out a heavy, awkward looking gadget. Best she could tell it looked like some version of a recording device. Whatever it was, was ancient, probably older than Mrs. Metworth next door. She hadn't seen such outdated technology since her fathers collection of antique clocks.

"Before I show you this I need to know where Cloud and the children are." She looked ready to question him and slightly angry again. But before she could start shouting he leaned into her face and growled, "Now." Instead of looking intimidated, she looked even angrier but she closed her mouth with a clink of teeth before anything other than an answer to his question came out. Now was not the time.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she spoke, "Cloud's on a delivery to Wutai, he left around eight last night. The kids left with Barret after the party, he's taking them to Costa Del Sol for the week. He promised Marlene, and Denzel wanted to go as well. " It would only occur to her later that Barret having the kids may have saved her life, but for now she felt a sick loneliness. She hated being alone, when she was around other people she felt important, had a place to belong. Other people gave her a sense of purpose she supposed.

There _was_ more to this emptiness but looking deeper might have made her realise what she already knew. She was always alone.

4

He noticed her distant gaze, but not knowing how to deal with it pressed on. He handed her the envelope, he wasn't sure if she knew it was in her hand because she just sat there looking dumbly at it. He had to admit, she looked awful. Her dark brown hair was a mess, her face clammy and pale, and she stunk of vomit and vodka, to top it all off her nose looked like it had met the end of someone's fist and her eyes where turning black with bruising. She kept sniffing at the two pieces of tissue that hung pathetically from each nostril. There was a large bruise on her elbow as well, but it didn't look broken.

She wasn't moving, and wasn't aware that he felt awkward in the silence. "I heard rumours from a traveller in the Kalm inn that there had been people emerging from the Sleeping Forest. When I asked him to describe them he said he hadn't got a good look, but that they didn't look like any travellers he'd ever seen. I already knew they wouldn't be travellers, most people are too superstitious to go anywhere near that place, and anyone who does go in never usually comes ba- Tifa, did you hear me?"

Tifa looked up at him, "Yes, but what does this have to do with-"

"I followed them, the people from the forest. The traveller at the Kalm inn was right, they definitely weren't the average travellers."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I don't often see travellers with semi-automatic desert eagles in their holsters."

"What! Who where they?" She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. "No not, not ShinRa?" Her voice squeaked like a seventeen year old boy's when he grimly nodded. "Why would they be in the Sleeping Forest? They must have been after something. Is it something to do with Aer-"

"No." He sounded so resolute that she jerked back from his voice. "They aren't after Aeris, but you're right they _are_ after someone. I followed them for three days to assess whether they where following orders or if they where just rogue ShinRa looking for a cause. When they had set up camp around the North Corel area, in the forest bordering the Corel Mountains, and I had gained no information, I decided it was time for confrontation and interrogation."

His eyes flicked to the envelope which had soaked a wet patch onto her lap. She swallowed with a dry click in her throat, and looked down at her hands. It had already been unsealed, when her finger ran under the tacky edge it opened easily. Tifa looked back at Vincent and then slid a hand in, pulling out a wad of photographs, now wrinkled with damp.

She looked at the first, it was a monochrome photo, obviously taken through a professional zoom-lense camera, of a shop she knew that sold childrens' clothes just around the corner; Grey's Boutique. She had been there last week to get the kids' clothes for Costa Del Sol.

"Oh my God." She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the sharp gasp that came anyway.


	2. The Silence Before the Thunder

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of it's characters, etc.

I want to thank everyone for their reviews, they really are helpful. They let me know that what I'm writing isn't complete codswallop. That in turn helps me to perservere. So thank you, Crimson Valkyrie, fLy, and last but not least ichi-nana-hachi. This is something I really enjoy doing in my free time and it's nice to know others get pleasure in reading it. Hope you like this chapter.

Oh, and one more thing, there is a bit of swearing in this fic, its not something I normally condone. But it seems to fit this fic, I couldn't really imagine anything else being said in some of the situations that arise. So i'm sorry if it offends you, I'm not condoning it in any way it's just fiction and people tend to swear in certain fictional situations. XD

**Chapter 2: The Silence Before the Thunder**

1

Her heart was pounding.

Tifa flicked to the next photograph, then the next. It was suddenly cold; she was shaking and when she opened her mouth to speak, a garbled, broken noise came out.

She flicked on, tucking the next underneath awkwardly with its damp tackiness. On and on, the same face in every photograph. Her lip curled and she flicked faster, soon the photos were being discarded to the floor in a noisy flurry.

He still stood there. Watching as panic took hold and the colour drained from her face, something he'd seen a thousand times over, but it seemed that much more disturbing to watch it in her. He watched each successive photo fall to the slate tiles, darken in the wet puddle he'd created and then small bubbles begin to surface between the layers.

"Tifa." Vincent grabbed her cold hand, she jerked away roughly and continued her frenzy, "Tifa! Stop it." He watched the zoned out look disappear from her face. She looked up with the question already in her eyes.

"What do they want with _me_? Why," _Why me? Cloud… _Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, "I mean, what do I do? I can't sit around knowing this and waiting for something to happen. Vincent, Cloud won't be home for like the next two weeks! What do you think I should do?" She swung her legs off the bar and looked at the floor. Tifa knew he'd feel obligated, he always did. She would have felt ashamed asking Vincent for help (she was too stubborn to ask anyone for help on most occassions), this was a nice way around it, but with the same result.

She felt miniscule when she thought of ShinRa, in all it's entirety - supposedly disbanded or not- chasing after _just _her. The memories of the slums seemed so distant; stealing for food, knocking around a few idiots who thought a single woman was an easy target, even having to wash in the dirty river water because it was still cleaner than her.

She had been alone then and she had survived, even revelled in the independance. But she wasn't sure if she could cope with _this_ on her own. For once Tifa needed someone else to tell her what she should do, because, truly, she had no idea. This strange dependance had been a kind of laziness, and developed when Cloud re-entered the fray.

Tifa was the lamb and Vincent could be her shepherd. But would he deliver her to salvation?

_Shit, don't start crying. I will not tolerate weakness, woman or not. _Vincent knew he would have just left if she did, he couldn't deal with tears. To him it was a weakness and weakness deserved only disgust. But Tifa didn't cry, She was too strong and too proud. Instead she began pulling the tissue cautiously from her half cracked nose, and he was just watching, waiting.

Somewhere outside the rain was falling harder, and a flash of lightning crashed. "Tifa, there's more." As he edged closer, she gracefully jumped from the bar-top and walked to the bin, discarding of the bloodied tissue and touching her nose in the mirror. He reached for the black device he had set upon the smooth granite surface of the bar.

Another crash of lightning lit up the window behind her.

Another rumble of thunder filled the silence between sniffing and small hisses of pain.

2

Static filled the air. Tifa stopped moving, and Vincent simply watched with emotionless eyes; a cold, hard expression upon his pale face. She started at a gunshot, a small surprised cry escaping her lips. Then a scream, and another shot. . Three. Four. Five. Her shoulder's jerked with each report of the gun.

An explosion and the terrible wails of the dying covered the silent wake of the fifth shot, she closed her eyes. The fighter in her heard the roar of flames, and the cock of a gun but she tuned out the howls. She turned when _his _voice rang out, staring at him in question, her face showing a hardness he admired; to him she had never looked more beautiful.

The gruff voice crackled over static, she looked at the recorder clutched in his human hand. _"Why are you here? Who sent you and what do you want?"_ Vincent's tone of voice made Tifa wince and she looked to him for something. He supposed she was looking for regret, or guilt, perhaps even disgust but she would find none. _My actions be as my needs dictate, _he thought. If she looked close enough it would probably horrify her to find the beginnings of a dark smirk and amusement. She didn't, or she did and didn't care.

The voice continued, as the flames roared louder. _"If you don't answer me, I'm going to blow your fingers off _one_ at a _time." Tifa's lips parted and her jaw twisted as though in contemplation of whether she should speak or not. He wouldn't turn it off if she asked him to, he was showing it to her for a reason, whether she liked it or not.

There was a gulping sound for air, Tifa pictured Vincent's talons wrapped around the man's throat and piercing into the delicate skin. A crash of lightning sounded outside, and she jumped when another gun shot was heard. It was muffled with the sound of impacting flesh, and a cry that made the hackles stand up on the back of her neck.

The gun cocked once more, clicking loudly in time with a beat of her heart.

A hand reached up to cover her mouth. _"My fucking finger! I'm going to kill you! I'm going to carve those eyes out of your head you fucking son of a-"_

A loud smack interrupted him. Either Vincent smacked him across the face with the butt of his gun or he punched him. To Tifa the latter seemed more his style, he wouldn't risk damaging or bloodying any of his guns.

"_ShinRa!" _He cried. _"We're working under the orders of ShinRa. Just leave me alone you craz-"_

Tifa gasped at the gurgling sound that followed that sentence, whatever Vincent was doing had the man spitting up blood or vomit, it was impossible to tell. The fire in the background had now become the dry crackle of detritus in the night air.

"_Who is heading ShinRa now? Where is their base of operations?"_

Another cry of pain. _"Rufus, Rufus ShinRa! I can't tell you, that fucking maniac would kill me and if you kill me first, he'll have me put back together again so he can do it himself!" _

Vincent's voice was now a growl, fizzing with static and anger, _"What are you after?" _

A distant gunshot rang out followed by a shout and scream when Vincent's gun sounded off again. Someone had apparently not stayed dead.

"_We were sent to retrieve someone and return to base with them. I don't know who I swe-"_

There was a squelch of flesh, _"Fuck! Ok! Ok! Some woman bartender in Edge, I think her name was Lockhart. Yeah, Tifa Lockha-"_ _Click._

3

Tifa looked up at the click. "Why did you stop it! Did he say anything else?" She was shaking more visibly now and stepped closer.

"There is no need to hear the rest. It contains no more information." The tone of his voice made her sure she didn't want to know. She wassure she'd never meet that soldier again.

"Well what do _you_ suggest I do now? I obviously can't stay here." Tifa's voice was trembling, but she was refusing to show fear. He respected that.

"We need to leave. When did you say Cloud got the delivery job?" Vincent turned his back to her and walked closer to the door. He held the shutter's of the nearby window apart with two fingers and tucked the device back into his cloak pocket. The scarlet cloth hung taut on one side, lopsided with the bulge hanging around his rear. At any other time Tifa would have found this most amusing.

"Someone phone-" She stopped, looking around as though she had just remembered she needed to do the laundry or pick one of the kids up from school and was now late. "_Oh my God_, someone phoned last night, really late, and asked if he could make a special delivery to Wutai. They asked if it was possible he could leave tonight, it was important they got the package on time. You don't think- I mean, ShinRa?"

Vincent nodded without removing his gaze from outside. "Most likely. It would be easier to retrieve you without anyone's knowledge, at least until they took you wherever it is they needed. But it would seem fate has decided that you be spared. Where was he to pick up the delivery?"

Tifa looked at his back and began wiping the puddle on the floor with the mop from the closet in an attempt at finding something to do other than fidget. "He said somewhere in Kalm. He didn't go into details. What do mean by _'fate has decided'_, I don't believe in fate, Vincent."

He stopped and looked at her in mild surprise, the first emotion she had seen in his eyes all night. Vincent showing his feelings? That occurrence was as probable as lead turning to gold. And she was no alchemist. "Luck then. Whatever you want to call it, it's all the same. It's either fortune or fate that the kids are gone or this would be most difficult. Probably impossible. We need to-"

Vincent stopped mid-sentence, pulled out Cerberus in one fluid movement, aimed at Tifa's face and fired.

4

Tifa had no time to react. No time to scream, no time to move and no time to do anything other than let a stifled sob escape her lips.

Silence. The sound of rainwater droplets falling from the gutter into the puddles below could be heard outside. Then a loud thud.

Vincent had already holstered the gun, and then continued to speak as though he had just stopped to pick something from his teeth, "-As I was saying, we need to le-"

"Vincent! You could have shot me!" She was looking down at herself and touching her face and stomach as if to check she was still in one piece.

He smirked, "I never miss."

Then she turned, dropped the mop with a clatter and screamed in horror.

Behind Tifa, laying slumped against the white-wash wall, lay a man, a pool of crimson creeping out from beneath and smeared behind him. And from what Tifa could tell he was a soldier, she wasn't very good with guns and could only gauge what was clutched in his hand as far as it being a type of pistol.

She turned white when she noticed the gaping hole in the back of his head, and the smear of clotted blood spattered behind. Vincent had shot him square between the eyes and taken half his head out the other side.

"There will be more, we need to leave. As much as I detest the man's inability to stay sober around me, I think we should visit Cid. Perhaps he has more information or can offer you a safer place to stay for the meantime." She opened her mouth to ask a question. "Marlene and Denzel are best with Barret we shouldn't alert them to anything until you are safe with Cid. ShinRa are probably tapping the lines, if they see a call made to Barret and the children, they would have no qualms about persuasive interrogation to find our whereabouts."

Vincent always had a way of settling her nerves, she felt a security around him she had lost when her father died. That feeling of knowing all is well in the world because you have someone to look up to and depend upon. Vincent may not show his feelings but Tifa knew he was always there when it mattered most.

The bruised bartender smiled meekly and asked the final question she needed the answer to before she could leave guilt-free. "What about cloud? Will he be ok? Maybe I should leave a not or something, or a message with the neighbours. Although I doubt Mrs. Metworth can remember anything longer than her own name."

A pale hand found its place upon her shoulder. She looked at it in bewilderment, then quickly looked away. This was something she wanted to encourage, making a fuss would only have the opposite effect. Sometimes she thought cloud and Vincent could be very similar, but then again maybe all men were this way. _Stubborn mules._

She was reminded of a bittersweet moment from her childhood. She could only figure she musn't have been that old, her mother was still alive then. But it was one of the most important lessons her mother could have taught her.

She had been chasing the robin for an hour when her mother came; haggard, thin and yellowing, but still still beautiful to her. Still so beautiful to Tifa. "Tifa, you can' just chase him. Your scaring him."

Tifa looked confused. "Touching a creature, animal or human, always requires trust." She remembered being pulled into a bony lap to watch the bird for hours. A tiny, hopeful handful of seeds, dirt and a crushed worm stashed in her pocket.

She tried to leave so many times and everytime her mother stopped her.

Eventually the small bird hopped towards them, head twitching and tilted to the side. Then as a most unexpected flutter, the bird landed upon her outstretched forearm. And her mother had smiled.

Her last smile Tifa would ever see.

"Remember Tifa, the bird must come to you."

_The bird must come to you. _

_  
Perhaps I should impart this wisdom to Yuffie. _

He was still talking.

"It's probably best you don't leave anything to suggest to anyone that you have gone, or where you have gone to. The address Cloud has is probably false, that way there is no trace of ShinRa. He'll think it an elaborate prank." She was chewing her lip and looking completely unconvinced.

"Tifa, Cloud will be fine, we can leave a message with Yuffie later. She will probably be the first person he goes to visit once he realises the job is fake. " That brightened her up. "Go upstairs and pack only the necessary items and garments you will require for the journey. You will need to travel light. The first stop will be Junon harbour."

Still shaking, Tifa gave one last glance at the body and disappeared upstairs. Vincent stayed by the window with his fingertips twitching beside Cerberus.

5

At least he was dry now, though that wouldn't last for long. Another downpour had begun outside. They would have to take the old subway route under the mountains that divided Midgar and Junon. He had arrived here through that tunnel and was certain it was unused.

He had played amongst that rubble as a child, seen the old train that the other children of his village had described as being haunted. Of course, this never bothered _him_. He didn't believe in ghosts. He just hoped Tifa didn't either.

Not long after, she arrived downstairs carrying a small backpack which was soon slung over her shoulder. In one swift movement her hair was tied behind her and her gloves were pulled tight. The long, hooded coat, hat and waterproof trousers she was wearing meant she had heard the rain too. She looked around one last time.

"So Vincent are we getting Chocobos from the farm?"

He let a small chuckle escape his lips, but the dark smile that followed made her shiver. She shrugged, "I'll take that as a no. How do you propose we get to Junon then?"

"An old secret." He tapped his nose, the most childish gesture she had ever seen him make. "Ready?" When she nodded they stepped outside, and she locked the door behind her. She studied the old rickety, paint stripped door and even older, more rickety building with sentimentality.

And Vincent, he studied it with the suspicion and precision of a marksman, a hunter, _a predator_. He smirked in shadow, then made off down the step, and round the corner. Tifa panicking, ran after until he was in sight again. The streets were dark and there was little light from the moon but every minute or so a flash of lightening illuminated the pavement and bit at the shadowy alleys and doorways.

They passed the occasional nightlife of Edge; drunks staggering from bars, prostitutes working the corners and rag-tag bums sleeping in doorways or behind trashcans in alleyways, usually a little brown paper bag clutched in their hands. A little 'pick-me-up'.

_Just like the slums. This place hasn't really got any better._

She pulled the hood up, there were still ShinRa soldiers searching for her, she wasn't sure if they were mako exposed but she couldn't risk being recognised. Mako eyes could see through any level of darkness. And not being able to see the enemy when they can see you, leads to dangerous situations that even vincent may not be able to take control of.

He counted the seconds between each crunch of her feet. A silent approach never was her forte. Vincent just hoped she'd be smart enough to follow his instruction in the near future, or she would probably put hersef in jeopardy. Still, not his problem. There were reasons why he was helping her, he was surprised she hadn't asked 'why' earlier.

Perhaps she knew, perhaps she didn't want to think he was helping her only because he had something to gain, or maybe she thought he felt obligated. Any way he looked at it, the question seemed inevitable, and he would answer. But would he lie or tell the truth? There was still so much more she wasn't aware of._ So naive,_ he thought.

This was so much bigger than just them.

She stopped. "Vincent?"

"Yes?"

"You knew he was there all along, didn't you?" She didn't need to turn to see the sinister smile that curled his lips. Now he was amused, _When did she figure that out?_


	3. Bergen's Law

Disclaimer; I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters, etc.

Again, thanks for the wonderful reviews guys, I'm really enjoying writing this.But I'm realising it's going to be long. I hope you don't mind. Thanks for all the interest, and thanks Hana for the support and every one else too.**  
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**Chapter 3: Bergen's Law**

1

They were followed.

He was sure of it. He had heard the scuffle of extra steps for a good half-hour now and was wondering when they would make their move. Any attempts at a kidnap, would probably wait until they were out of Edge; no interference, no fuss and most importantly a tidy place to dump any extra bodies. Any extra bodies like him.

He wondered if she knew too. _Probably not._ She still had the hood up, he could only make out the steamy puff of each breath from beyond the shadow of her face. They where both quilted in a fine veil of misty rainwater. Vincent detested it. Downpours he could handle, snow he could cope with, but this misty, sticky rain found a way to soak through _everything._

Tifa walked, and walked, and walked. The cold air stung her nostrils and she was sure the bleeding was going to start again. How many alleys was Vincent going to lead them through? She had thought he would have taken a less dangerous route out of Edge; they had almost been mugged three blocks ago by some half-crazed, mako-fixed addict. Luckily, once Vincent flashed him a nice view of Cerberus and Death Penalty, the idiot had had enough sense to run.

Tifa had expected to hear the loud, thunderous roar of Cerberus but was somewhat surprised to see Vincent had let the would-be thief leave. She had frowned at him then, had she not known him so well she could have supposed he didn't want to fill a boy who looked no elder than fifteen full of Cerberus' personal calling cards, but she had witnessed his darker side too many times to willingly play ignorant to the truth. The truth that the only reason he had held back from turning the youngster into a bloody sieve was that it would have made a scene. And a scene meant they would be either recognised or remembered should anyone ask later.

2

Several grey blocks of a cardboard box-like city had passed before Vincent decided to impart some of his Turk wisdom to her. He ordered her to remain 'perfectly forgettable' and do only what he instructed, explaining that 'no-one remembers a passer-by unless they do something to make themselves memorable; something distinct.' When she sarcastically asked what this 'something distinct' entailed, he had replied with reined impatience, "it could be as simple as waving or stopping to ask for directions; even just catching someone's eye momentarily on passing."

It did not take a genius to realise that blowing the head off a local youth probably didn't fall under the heading of 'forgettable'. Vincent's reasoning although less sentimental and morally lacking had a chilling logic and cunning.

It was sickening all the same, if not a little frightening.

But then Vincent could hardly lecture her on remaining 'forgettable', how often did you see a caped gunman walking the streets looking like a modern hybrid of Zorro and Count Dracula? Tifa wrinkled her nose at his hypocrisy and shot a defiant eye to the back of his sodden head as he trailed her along the ever-darkening alleys by the wrist.

"Vincent stop."

He continued.

"_Vincent,_ I said st-" He had jerked her into the shadow of the wall and slapped a hand over her mouth before she could snap at him. She resisted the temptation to bite his hand in indignant abuse. He _usually_ had good reasons for this.

She could hear only her muffled breathing from behind his hand and the hazed echoes of barking dogs from the surrounding neighbourhood. The walls in this narrow alley were high, mouldy and uninterrupted by windows. Only moonlight seeping from around the corner in a diagonal strip managed to provide Tifa with any sense of direction and awareness.

The high-cornered building concealed them in shadow, but Tifa did not need to see Vincent's face to know he was waiting for something.

Had they been followed? Who knew. Tifa figured the best thing she could do right now was shut up and stay still. Whatever Vincent was up to did not apparently involve her and anything she tried might just make him angry enough to leave her in Edge to fend for herself.

She didn't want to be alone in this.

3

When she was sure five minutes had passed, and her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness enough to make out the ragged contours of Vincent's face, she sighed deeply into his hand to signal her frustration and impatience. _'Hurry up and do whatever it is you need to do Vincent, its freezing.' _His eyes flicked to her briefly before returning to watch the entrance to the alley.

She had only just started flexing her knees to warm up when he let go of her mouth and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer.

In shock, she looked up at his face again, her breath shuddering with the throat-biting air. He was still staring out at the entrance, and briefly lifted his other hand to place it in front of his lips. _'Be quiet.' She_ could still hear nothing significant, but maybe Vincent had enhanced hearing thanks to his horned partners.

She was no longer shaking as Vincent was, despite lack of layers and the current weather conditions, extremely warm. She was pressed into the wall and the damp had started to permeate the layers of her coat and jumper, Vincent, who was still wary of whatever he could hear that she still couldn't, was pressing rather tightly into her.

And he still made no move to remove his arm from around her waist.

Right now, Tifa was sure if anyone had passed by they would assume a drunken couple had staggered from a nearby pub and were now having a rather heated session in the cover of the alleys. This was more intimacy than Tifa had thus far experienced, and the close contact with a feared killer, who happened to be a container for four demons, was making her nervous and strangely anxious.

She started shaking again, and when he pulled her marginally closer, it only got worse.

"Vi-"

"Shh…" It was low, husky whisper.

His hand travelled up her back under the heavy coat and pressed against her back. He leaned in further until his cheek was flush with hers. The nervous brunette could feel the heat radiating off his face on her cold cheek and wondered how he could possibly be so warm. There was a strange kind of security with this movement and she could smell the milky sweetness of his skin.

Tifa's view of the alley entrance was shielded by Vincent's face, so she stared directly at the wall opposite, studying the mouldy bricks. She suddenly wondered what she might be leaning against.

4

Another five minutes passed.

She was so distracted trying to ignore Vincent's light breaths in her ear that she almost didn't hear the ever-increasing footsteps that where nearing their alley. Flinching when she heard the cock of what she presumed to be Cerberus, she became aware that they _were_ being followed and Vincent planned on sorting out the problem.

The shaking started again and there was a painful cold wind now blowing in her other ear.

"Did you see which way they went?" There was more than one.

"No, but I'm pretty sure they haven't got far." Two at least.

"They've gone in an alley again. These are all dead-ends so they're bound to be hiding in one of them." Make that three.

The rustling of heavy coats or jackets and footsteps became ever louder. Tifa had the strange feeling that she was playing Russian roulette with a stick of dynamite and was just waiting for the big bang. The big bang that would either end with her head on a platter for Rufus ShinRa and Vincent probably locked away for research purposes again or three bullet riddled soldiers.

Suddenly Vincent's protection didn't seem so reassuring.

She felt him tense and press up against her.

BANG.

When she jumped his arm tightened on her waist. One down, two to go.

"There!" came a gruff shout from just beyond the corner. She jerked her head away from his to see what was going on.

Vincent was lightning. The second the stocky man in a leather jacket came round the corner he was slumped on his knees and then on his face in the muddy puddles. Tifa was sure she saw the hole in his right temple before she heard the gunshot.

The wake was deathly silent.

Until a slow squeaking, itch crept alongside Tifa's ankle. In shock she kicked out and screamed, and the rat that had been dangling from her foot flew into the adjacent wall. That was a mistake.

Vincent had jumped back in surprise just as the third man rounded the corner, and two gunshots sounded simultaneously. Tifa felt the first hit her arm, sending her reeling backwards into mud-water puddles. The second she was sure found its mark as when the body hit the ground a sudden thud resonated through the long alley.

5

Vincent sighed. It had been close, he had been so surprised by her kick that he almost missed the third man. And more than anything that would have been a great wound to his pride. He had yet to miss a shot when on duty. Unfortunately for Tifa the soldier had managed to get a shot in before hitting the concrete, and when Vincent dodged he hadn't realised she was in the firing line.

If he had of known would he have stayed put? He was quite surprised to find that a part of him wanted to take the bullet and spare her pain, probably his chivalrous side. His mother had always drilled into him the ways men where 'supposed' to behave. "Always seat lady guests before seating yourself Vincent.", "Vincent Valentine, snorting is most indignant at the dining table.", "Ladies first, Vincent!" and her favourite, "Vincent Valentine you will never earn a woman's favour by being a sexist swine." That usually earned a slap across the back of the head, or a good tug of the earlobe. But would his mother approve of him taking a bullet for a woman who was too stubborn to follow instruction? She would be _ecstatic_.

After ensuring the alley was clear and they were no longer being followed Vincent walked, albeit distastefully, to Tifa, who was now slumped against the wall and clutching her left bicep to stem the bleeding.

Again, he was surprised to find when he knelt down to her level, that she was not crying. She was ghostly white and shaking, though that was probably from the shock of actually being shot. As far as he could tell she had never suffered a bullet wound before, and until you experience the horror of having a gun aimed and shot at you, you would never know real fear.

Even he would admit it is a frightening experience, though due to his exploits as a Turk and then traipsing with Avalanche to the four corners of Gaia, he had become a little accustomed to being on the receiving end of every bullet going.

'_They always seem to target the one with the horns and fangs first.'_

He snatched her hand away without a word, and lifted her arm carefully. There was a hole about a centimetre in diameter slightly to the left of her muscular upper arm. Being an expert on bullet wounds, after many years of tending to himself and Turk companions on site, he knew instantly the bullet had neither hit the bone nor struck a major nerve or artery. The bullet had also passed cleanly through the flesh on the other side, though the exit wound was a little larger.

He poked at the wound a little to check there was dirt in the wound, that was when she vomited. He ignored the retching girl and tore a strip of cloth from his black shirt. When she sat up again, wiping her mouth on a sleeve he tightened it around the arm preventing any further blood loss and keeping the wound clean till they got somewhere better to take care of it.

He helped her to her feet. Vincent was about to berate her for her stupidity when he noticed her sway a little and saw the clammy sweat of her face shine in the moonlight. _I can tell her later._ He probably didn't need to tell her anyway, the pain should be punishment enough to make her realise that all actions have consequences.

He remembered back to his Turk days when his superior Bergen had told him "Vince, you seem like a smart-arse book worm, you've heard of Newton's law right? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction? Well here's Bergen's law, 'Every order is like a rule, and every broken rule has it's set of consequences.' So if you ever disobey my orders again, you'll get more than a broken leg, you hear?"

He hated to admit to himself he was becoming as set in his ways and intolerant of failure as Bergen. He smirked, and continued out of the alley and through the streets, listening carefully for Tifa's steps following after.

6

Three hours later they where finally out of Edge and making it through the plains in the Midgar Area. He was getting quite nervous about Tifa, she hadn't spoke since before the alley incident and that was very unlike her. Normally she would talk his ears till his ears bled, even when he was trying to ignore her and everyone else. Usually by the end of the conversation, or speech, Vincent realised he was actually quite interested, and had been quietly nodding his way through.

He looked back again and slowed down, only partially, they needed to keep going or they would be lucky to get to the abandoned underground train tunnel by tomorrow afternoon. Colour had started to come back to her face, but she had set in her face in determination to keep walking so he thought best not to disturb her.

7

Several more hours passed, the sun has risen but it was a grey, dirty skied day with little light and more of the detestable hazy rain. Thoroughly soaked, completely exhausted and feeling like they had just suffered a sixteen round boxing match with Mike Tyson, the two silhouettes on the Midgar plains came to an abrupt halt at the base of the mountains that divided them from the Junon Area.

Vincent looked back to the weary face of Tifa and then from side to side along the jagged outcrops of muddy, moss streaked mountain rock. He nodded at Tifa then continued around a large outcrop to the left, his cape billowing in the strong wind blowing from the icy north.

Tifa hobbled wearily along behind him, surprised by each step she managed to make. Her arm stung like hell, feeling as though someone was using a carving knife to decorate her bicep. Each swinging movement, the barest of movements at all, sent sharp shooting pains from her arm up her shoulder to her neck and down her spine. She tried holding it with the other arm, but it wasn't really helping. Hopefully Vincent would stop soon and find a potion.

Her voice came out as a hoarse croak, like a bullfrog with laryngitis. "Vincent, are we th-"

"Yes." To her surprise he didn't sound impatient. In fact she could hear slight sympathy in that voice, and that shocked her most of all.

8

When she finally turned the corner, she wasn't startled to see an old wooden building merging into the mountain walls, she was too tired to care. Right then Tifa was sure if Vincent had pulled on a dress and broke into the can-can, right there, in front of that hovel she wouldn't have even batted an eyelid.

Vincent had disappeared into the sun-warped building, the flimsy door shuddering open a crack behind him. He re-checked his supply of bullets and reloaded Cerberus, he was more than sure he was the only person who still knew about this passage but as Bergen always liked to say, "Better safe than fucked later."

He turned to tell Tifa they would move on, but she wasn't behind him like he expected. She was sitting in the corner leaning on an old barrel sound asleep. The gun-man was sure he could hear her snoring softly and decided to rest for a bit before setting off down the cellar door to the tunnels.

The house only had the one room so he would rest near the door, wary for any other followers he may have missed. But then, that was unlikely, Vincent Valentine never missed. He smirked again and wandered over to Tifa, she was shivering quite loudly. He wouldn't be able to sleep with that racket, so he gently draped his cape around her. She snuggled into it instantly, curling into the foetal position on the floor.

He examined her wounded arm one last time before settling himself in the corner against some old boxes.


	4. Midgar to Junon

Disclaimer; I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters, etc.

Again I just wnt to thank you all for your support. This is only my second ever piece of fanfiction, so I am truly grateful. Thanks to Flaming Inferno and Karategal who reviewed last chapter with very helpful comments.

This chapter is dedicated to Flaming Inferno, a.k.a Hana. Thanks for sticking with this story.

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**Chapter 4: Midgar to Junon **

1

"Mum!"

Tifa had sat up without realising, and Vincent's cloak slipped to her lap in a pool of crimson. Looking round frantically for her mother and then realising it had been nothing more than a bad dream, she drew her hands up to wipe the sweat from her face.

"What time is it?" Walking to the shutter enclosed window she realised she had slept right through until the evening. It was dark outside, and when she looked between the wooden, dusty louvers she could make out a starry sky, but no moon tonight. Not that it mattered, the moon would be no use in the underground tunnel.

Immediately searching for Vincent, for she knew he wouldn't be pleased she had slept the day away, Tifa looked around the room. It was littered with small clusters of boxes and barrels here and there. And Judging by the dust, no one had been through this way in years, maybe even centuries. She had never even heard of a train running through these mountains, so it had possibly remained derelict since before her lifetime.

Each step creaked with the ancient, cement-dusted planks that ran the length of the room. There was the horrible squeak of leather boots against rough wood that made her shiver. The wary brunette could hardly make out anything due to the lightless night and she couldn't remember what it looked like when she came in either.

"Vincent." She whispered, though she didn't know why, the atmosphere reminded her of edge library. So quiet.

_I'm in a square room, with one window and one door, where could he hide? _

"Vincent!" She hissed.

There was an obscure shadow in the right corner, at the back of the room, but she could make out a misplaced shape. So she moved towards it, hands up and balled into fists. Cautiously edging forward, she winced when the weight of her arm became painful. She was lucky the bullet had passed right through, because there was no going to hospitals when ShinRa were chasing her.

It still managed to hurt like a bitch, though.

There had been times when Tifa stitched one of Cloud's bullet wounds during the time of Sephiroth. Now she knew how painful it was. She knew it had to hurt, but she never guessed how much.

Cloud, however, would always throw on the bravado like an overused musk not realising she had known him long enough to see he was in pain.

"Cloud if it hurts so much take this potion and we'll rest for a while." She would say.

And he would always reply, "It's fine Teef, honest. I've had worse, and I'd actually forgotten it was there 'til you mentioned it."

And so he would go on pretending, and she would watch him wince in pain when he moved it or touched it. She would even catch him poking at it like a child every now and then. But since he'd forgotten the wound was even there, she thought it best not to mention it.

2

"Vi-, _there_ you are." She had only made out the faint glow of red as his eyes flicked up when it was gone again. Tifa walked closer, wondering how the hell he always managed to disappear like that.

A hand landed on her shoulder.

"Ah!" She jumped round to see Vincent before her.

"Good _God_ Vincent! Didn't you learn not to do that from last time! Stop scaring me like that."

"My apologies."

Vincent's deep voice never stopped unnerving Tifa and its roughness made her shiver. Although, it sounded questionably groggy at the moment, suggesting he had been asleep until recently.

"Vincent why did you let me sleep so long?" She asked suspiciously.

He looked up from examining the floor, "You were tired. We need to go _now_, before we are discovered."

It was then she noticed he wasn't wearing his cape and remembered it had been draped around her when she woke. He disappeared into the darkness again as she walked over to retrieve the blood-coloured tatter from where it had fallen on the floor. Beating off the dust with her good arm, Tifa thought she should probably change into drier socks before setting off. She looked around a bit for her bag and decided maybe Vincent had lifted it.

"Vincent?"

Vincent heard her nearing footsteps as he inspected a nearby box. He was looking for a bottle of kerosene oil to use in a lantern he had scavenged. He _had_ looked for one for Tifa but there were no more. He wasn't very confident in the battered lump of metal (For it looked as though it had been half-chewed and spat back out again) that sat at his feet, but it would have to do.

The gunman turned only to have his cloak fisted into his chest. He took it and wrapped it around his shoulders once more, fixing the straps with one hand and now clutching a bottle of kerosene in the other. He took his time doing up the buckles.

"Thank you for the cloak Vincent, it was sweet of you." He looked up to see her smiling gratefully and paused with the buckles.

"You where shivering loudly." Her smile dropped, and she glared knowingly at him. She shrugged when looked he expectantly at her. It may have sounded like an accusation, but Tifa knew he was trying to play off the gesture.

"What I meant to ask was, if you'd maybe lifted my bag?" She asked hopefully.

In reply he just shook his head.

"Crap."

"What?"

"I've lost my bag. I definitely had it when we left and then…" She growled angrily. "I must have dropped it when I got shot. Didn't you think to lift it?"

He lifted his head in surprise. "Sorry."

"No, never mind. It wasn't your fault, I'm not angry at you. I just, I mean, I left my clothes and things in it. They would have been useful."

"I am sure Cid and Shera will be able to spare you some clean clothing."

"Yeah, I know, it's not really _that _I was worried about. My purse is in it, with my I.D. and stuff, if someone finds it they might think the worst and phone Barret and the kids. They'll be really worried."

"We can call them in Junon."

Tifa though about this for a moment, then replied, "Yeah, I suppose your right. What's that?" She was pointing to his feet.

"A lantern."

"That's great Vincent, but _why do you have it_?" The brunette picked it up and looked completely unimpressed. "Are you sure it even works? I mean, it looks knackered."

"We'll soon find out. This trade railway was made before the expansion of mako energy from Midgar to the rest of the globe. So there is no electricity and no lights. Workers used these. " He plucked the lantern carefully from her grasp and set it atop a box. Once it was filled with kerosene, he walked to another stack of boxes and slid them across the floor to reveal a trap door.

Tifa eyed it warily and then helped to lift it open, for Vincent seemed to be having trouble. She glared at him. _Why didn't he just ask?_ Sighing because she already knew the answer, the brunette just looked at the dark hole in the floor, squinting to make out the beginnings of metal ladders leading into the darkness.

"Where was the main entrance?"

"Hmm?" He went to lift the lantern and some supplies he had fished out of a few boxes earlier.

Tifa eyed the small hole. "Well, surely they didn't bring boxes of supplies through this way. Where was the main entrance located?"

"Midgar. It travels underground from Midgar to Junon. This was just a service point." Vincent was fixing the last few buckles of his cape which were jangling madly with the slightest movement.

She nodded still staring into the hole. "Why didn't we use it? The main entrance I mean. Why come all the way out here?"

He wasn't expecting to be interrogated, but smiled grimly and explained. "The main entrance in Midgar is located in the basements of the old ShinRa headquarters. I didn't think under the circumstances that going there was advisable, if ShinRa are still active you can be sure there will be soldiers lingering."

"Besides, the tunnel collapsed a few metres behind this point." He added.

"How-"

"Avalanche where not the first to oppose ShinRa's corruptions, so the explosion may have been intentional… or lack of maintenance has made the structure unstable over the years. I don't know the history but either way it is impassable now." She was pleased he was answering her questions, but pre-empting them and answering before she had finished asking was getting irritating.

He jumped down the hole in one swift swoop of cloth, leaving Tifa gaping where he just disappeared. Having not travelled this way before, and unsure what to expect she clambered down the ladder awkwardly with one arm. A broken leg or ankle would only add to her growing list of injuries, and as they were adding up on their own, there was no need to be reckless.

3

"Show off," she uttered as she reached the bottom.

Vincent had got the lantern working, and although it looked like no more than old junk that once resembled something usable, it gave off an astonishing amount of light. The tunnel was unlike any train way she had seen before. Instead of the modern circular tunnels this was like an old mine shaft with its' jagged square walls of bare stone.

The walls stood about three metres apart which was a relief to Tifa's claustrophobia. And although the low ceiling made it difficult for Vincent to stand at his full height, Tifa was small enough to stand without bending her head down.

"Vincent, how long is this tunnel?"

He surveyed the area a bit before answering and knelt down to look at the dirty, iron railway tracks that ran beneath their feet. "About five miles to Junon from here. _There is _another service station on the other side of the mountains but I arrived this way, getting out in Junon should be no problem. And we are less likely to run into any… obstacles."

Tifa looked closer at what Vincent was now studying intently on the ground.

Footprints.

Footprints that definitely did not belong to Vincent's eccentric footwear. She looked up at Vincent again with a grim expression. "We're not alone are we? Someone passed this way recently."

He just grunted and shrugged, "Maybe. We'll see."

"I'd rather not, but it looks like we don't have a choice." She was talking to herself now for her voice had dropped to a mutter. "I suppose the footprints could be really old, it's not like there's anything to disturb them down here."

Vincent raised an eyebrow at her reasoning. He had the sharp eyes of a hawk, if they had been there previously he would have noticed. But if she wanted to play delusional he would let her be. "Come."

He started off down the tracks, his steel toes clipping against the iron rails every so often. Tifa trailed along behind, warily watching the flicker of light from the lantern as he led a path through the darkness.

4

Three hours of solid walking led Tifa to some new conclusions.

Firstly, that walking on uneven ground, divided jaggedly by a frame of iron, hurt like hell. Her feet where on fire and the only saving grace was that she was wearing leathery walking boots. _God help anyone who tries this trek in trainers._

Secondly, losing her backpack was more catastrophic than she had imagined. For in that backpack were several energy bars, cling-film wrapped sandwiches and a bar of Choco-milk Chocolate that she was now willing to sell her soul for. She was so ravenously hungry that even Vincent was looking like a tempting meal.

And lastly, that five miles on foot was a bloody long walk when you _really _needed the bathroom.

The journey so far had been silent, if one could ignore the dangerous creak of overhead rafters and occasional squeal and scuffle of rats. Vincent Valentine was not the best conversationalist, which left Tifa plenty of time to her thoughts. _Some things never change._

He hadn't slowed down from their starting pace, he probably wanted out of this stifling tunnel as much as she did. But Tifa knew if she had spent thirty years trapped in a coffin she wouldn't be all that comfortable in enclosed spaces either.

"Vincent." He stopped abruptly at the first sound in three hours.

Noise was strangely foreign even to her own ears, and she lowered her voice. "Vincent, I…is there anywhere… are there any _bathrooms_ around?"

Slightly embarrassed but used to having this problem, she smiled awkwardly and chewed her lip. Being an outdoor girl she had no qualms about using a bush or anything similar, the trouble, they both knew, was that there was nowhere to hide behind in these desolate tunnels.

Vincent looked at the floor for a moment and then continued on again, the lantern's halo following. Annoyed that he would just ignore her, Tifa hopped after, "Hey! Vincent! I really need to-"

"We're almost there."

"Junon?" She asked hopefully, peering round at him.

"No, the second service shack. Junon will be an hour from there." For the next ten minutes Vincent just kept walking, completely unaffected by Tifa's pestering questions of how much longer it was going to be.

By the time Tifa was sure her bladder was going to burst, Vincent stopped. "_Thank god_."

She was about to dash up the ladder when she realised it would be impossible with only one good arm. Vincent who seemed to have noticed as well, had stepped up to the metal frame with his back to her. "Climb onto my back."

"What?"

"Climb onto my back."

"But I-" He looked sharply at her. "Nevermind." And without further argument Tifa climbed onto his back, hooking her legs awkwardly about his waist, whilst trying not to snuggle her chin into his neck.

When he finally let her down at the top she coughed awkwardly and dashed out the door, muttering "Thanks, Vincent."

Vincent took this time to look around for some more kerosene oil, for they hadn't much left. Maybe there would be another lantern as well, one that looked slightly more reliable than the heap of junk he left in the underground tunnel.

When Tifa returned a few minutes later, she looked both windswept and panicked. Her long hair had mostly broken free from the tie that had kept it swept back, and dangled in wispy, straggly lengths around her face. The bruises on her face, which were now darker than when they had left Edge, where yellowing and her nose seemed less swollen. All in all, she was dishevelled mess, but what surprised Vincent was that there was something quite attractive about her in this state.

"We have to hide, or move, or something. Outside, there's about ten armed soldiers poking around." Tifa's words were rushed and she looked expectantly at Vincent for instructions. She would have loved nothing more than to go out and find out just why the hell they were after her, but she was no fool, the odds where not in their favour.

For one, the gunshot wound to her good arm had greatly decreased her chances of being able to take down ten armed and well trained men. And for another, if Vincent went out, guns blazing, to decorate them with a few bullet holes in her honour, ShinRa would surely learn of their whereabouts. Tifa was not so unaware to the consequences of immediate offensive action, but it _was_ sorely tempting.

"We will continue on, but quietly. We will have to progress without the use of the lantern though." And with that final bombshell he leapt back down the hole. Once again, Tifa gaped after.

_No light? This is going to be interesting._

5

When she reached the bottom, her left arm was a mass of throbbing dull heat and she once again cursed herself for dropping the bag. Aspirin would have seemed like a miracle at this moment.

"Vincent." She called, trying in vain to see through the thick shroud of darkness for he had already doused the light. She jumped slightly when something grabbed her hand, "Vincent is that you?"

"I should hope so." She smiled slightly but couldn't help notice the slight shock in his velvety voice. Tifa knew he had been groping for her wrist, to lead her through the rest of the tunnel in the same way he had led her through Edge's alleyways.

She also knew he wouldn't let go of her hand now, because that would just draw attention to the fact he was uncomfortable with holding her hand. Not that it didn't make her a little anxious either; she was suddenly very glad they both wearing gloves.

6

For the next hour, they continued on to Junon. Both pretending that they were comfortable with holding the others hand. Tifa, after about ten minutes was finding it _quite_ comforting to know that he was always there, because in the silence it would have been quite hard to tell.

When she started to see a faint glow in the distance, she took the chance to tap Vincent's shoulder. By the gruff noise of agreement she knew he had nodded his head, and he let go of her hand. The brunette flexed her hand a few times to rid the lingering tingle of warmth that resided there. Unknown to her, Vincent was doing the exact same thing.

As they neared the grey light, the tunnel stopped, the track continuing on into a larger, rectangular room of neater brown grey brick. The area looked like some kind of loading bay, with crates and boxes and barrels stacked about. Vincent having been here before walked straight to a small stairway concealed, behind some very dusty, wooden frames. When Tifa joined him, still looking curiously about, she sobered up at the sight of Cerberus.

He was quite sure ShinRa soldiers had not made it up this far yet, for there were no footprints in the dirt at the entrance of the tunnel on this end. But it was still better to proceed with caution. He turned the wooden door knob with his claw, Cerberus ready to fire in the other.

"Tifa, wait here." And with those words he stepped out into the bright light that had momentarily blinded her.

By the time her eyes adjusted Vincent was signalling for her to come through with his claw arm, and carefully studying the surroundings.

Tifa stepped through coughing from the dusty air, and covered her mouth and nose with a sleeve. "Where are we?" Came the muffle as she too looked around. The walls where decorated with some God awful pattern of beige and orange that looked like it was pulled straight from the sixties. There was a second floor balcony, and a grand staircase, that (although it's banister was covered in thick layers of dust and its faded brown carpet in dirt and plaster) still managed maintain an air of majesty.

The walls were dotted with ornate candle-sconces that had long since melted and the only light came in streaks of dusty gold from between the two stories of boarded windows that lined, what Tifa had assumed to be, the front of the building. She had come to this conclusion after noticing the enormous, imposing oak doorway that arched into the wall to their left.

Turning, she noticed that the door they came through had once been boarded over, probably when the place was re-established as a hotel. The wallpaper had been torn away in ragged strips and there was a hole in the plaster wall around the doorway that revealed the brown brickwork beneath.

She noticed claw indentations in the plasterboard and looked at Vincent. He didn't seem to notice, for he was looked intently between the slats of wood on the windows.

"I bet this place was really something in it's day." She said quietly, seeing a large, half covered painting leaning against what looked like a reception desk.

"It was." Vincent replied softly. Being in this place brought back fond memories of his Turk days, although, it stung to see what it had been reduced to. It was a sign that things had truly moved on and here he was still stuck in his past. But he was trying, and it was a start.

Tifa looked at him confused. "Did you know this place?"

"No." When she looked at him suspiciously he added, "Books."

She nodded slowly, taking it in.

"There doesn't seem to be anyone about. Have you got the time?" Vincent asked, hoping to change the subject.

"It's-" Tifa looked at her watch, and her eyes widened. _Good grief. We've been walking all night, no wonder I'm starving. _"It's a quarter to eight."

He seemed to digest this information for a bit, giving Tifa's stomach enough time to rumble loudly. "There will be a boat leaving for Costa Del Sol in fifteen minutes. We can work our way to Cid's from there."

"Can I call the kids before we leave?"

"Do as you wish. I have something I need to get." He replied curtly.

Tifa was unexplainably panicked at the thought of walking around without him. She was in no condition to fight off any would-be kidnappers. "Aren't you going to come? How will I know where to find you if we split up?"

Vincent was both surprised and slightly amused by her evident panic. "No, you will be alright on your own. It is market day, so if you stick to the city centre the crowds will make it impossible for ShinRa to try anything without making a scene."

"And how do I kno-"

"_I_ will find _you_." He answered, once again pre-empting Tifa's question.

Vincent opened the door for her, and they both set off along a wide alley towards the noisy city centre.


	5. Surprises on the Board Walk

Disclaimer; I do not own Final Fantasy VII, or any of it's characters, etc.

Well, firstly, I hope you had a lovely christmas and I wish you all a happy New Year.

Secondly, I want to thank all the readers again for your wonderful reviews and your support. I am truly grateful that you are enjoying reading this story as much as I am writing it.

This chapter is dedicated to ALL the reviewers, KarateGal, FlamingInferno, fLy, Crimson Valkyrie, Misfire ( Thanks for the helpful nudge) and Coquettish Siren (Who I had pegged as a Yuffentine, so that was certainly a surprise, though a nice one.). But I want to give a special thanks thanks, this time, to Ichi-nana-hachi who left really kind comments per chapter.

And as one last comment, I will not be rushing this so don't worry about "Polaroid love", its one of my pet hates too. XD

I just had a thought while editing this, Chaos is **naked**. NAKED. I've never really thought about that before, strange.

Waow, thats going to leave me thinking for a while.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Surprises on the Board Walk**

1

He went left and she went right.

Tifa watched Vincent disappear behind the crowds, not once looking back. She realised that if he wanted, he could just leave her here and she would be none the wiser. It was a good way to avoid awkward goodbyes and left no obligation on his part to look after her until she got to Cid's. In a way, it sounded so utterly Vincent, but at the same time she could not imagine such an underhanded stunt from him. Tifa supposed it all came down to trust and asked herself; _Can I trust him?_

The answer, she knew, was that she would have to. 'He wouldn't have come to find me if he was just going to leave me now,' she reasoned and headed into the centre of the market, still a little angry about the whole situation. _Even if he does leave, I can look after myself. I'm not a little girl._

2

Vincent was right when he said there would be crowds. The centre road that ringed Junon's main buildings and businesses was littered with stalls and so many people Tifa was having trouble just scratching her nose. Making a path through the herds of excited children, impatient corporates, gossiping women and broadcasting traders she managed to spy a phone booth by the promenade.

Growling at the third person to bump against her arm, she fished out some gil and picked up the receiver.

Three rings later and Tifa was looking about albeit covertly. An uneasy feeling had prickled the hairs on her neck, either she was being watched or lack of sleep had made her paranoid.

"Hello?"

She jumped when the gruff voice of Barret boomed in her ear. "Barret?"

"Tifa? If your callin' again to check up, I already told ya the kid's wo' be fine. Or am I not good enough to look after my own daughter anymore?" His accusatory tone made her frown.

"No, no, Barret. I'm sure the kids are fine! And you know I wouldn't leave them with anyone else so stop being so damn huffy."

"Well if it's not 'bout the kids, what _is _it 'bout?" He replied in his usual impatient manner.

"Are the kids listening?"

"Yeah, why?"

Tifa was now eyeing a middle-aged man on the bench across from her. He was hiding behind his paper, but gave a few glances her way every so often. Turning round without letting him know she had been watching, she continued with false cheer, "They'd never forgive me if I phoned without saying 'hi', so can you put them on a sec?"

"Yeah, one sec." There was a loud beep, and the phone went to call waiting. Tifa rolled her eyes.

A few seconds later there was another beep, and Marlene's scolding voice in the background. "No Daddy, _that _button!"

Another beep. "Okay Tifa, the phone's on loudspeaker. Go ahead."

"Hey kids! I hope your behaving for Barret, what's Costa Del Sol like?"

There was a drone of "We are Tifa." and then an excited babbling from both at once. Tifa pulled the phone slightly from her ear. Denzel was saying something about fishing while Marlene was over exaggerating about a dead jelly fish she found on the shoreline.

"Wow, that good, huh? Well I really have to go now, so can you put Barret back on please? I'll phone again soon, I promise."

Another sequence of beeps, followed by Marlene showing her Dad the right buttons "for the umpteenth time."

"Kid's gettin more like you every day Tifa. So what's up that ya couldn't say in front of Marlene and Denzel?" Barret might not have been the sharpest knife in the box, but he had an acute awareness of when he was being played. Usually it was only if money was involved though.

"So you sussed me, huh?" Tifa laughed nervously.

"You're a terrible liar Teef."

"You can talk! Remember when I asked you not to let Cloud know about the surprise birthday party?"

"Alright, alright! Now what is it?" He sounded quite anxious to get away. Tifa frowned again.

"I lost my purse. There wasn't much gil but my I.D. was with it, so someone might phone to tell you, your numbers down with kids for emergencies."

"That's it?" He sounded annoyed.

"Well I didn't want you all worrying something had happened!" _She_ was getting annoyed with his impatience.

"Well is there anythin' else? Sounds like the kids're bouncin' on the beds again." He sounded panicked, and Tifa was now trying not to laugh loudly down the phone.

"Well, I'm going to be staying with Ci- our neighbourhood tea fiend for a while, so if you need me that's where I'll be." She knew Vincent wouldn't be pleased that she told him where she was going, but Tifa didn't really care. Barret would most likely phone the bar for something; like how to mix up Denzel's favourite milkshake again or which trainers (as though the pink didn't give it away) belonged to who. If he couldn't find Tifa at the bar then he'd know something was wrong.

"Right, yeah, well-" BANG. "Damn it!"

"Barret? Barret!" Tifa shouted into the phone, earning a few stares from the surrounding crowds. _Oh God, what if ShinRa's-_

"I'm here, I'm here! Gees' do ya have ta shout in my ear Teef?"

"What _was _that?"

"Marlene fell off the bed and thumped 'er knee, now will you hurry up so I can go see to 'er?"

"Well that's it really, I better go and let you see to Marlene. Make sure to use a plain plaster, the one's with the dinosaurs scare her. Bye."

"For God's sake, she'll kick Vincent Valentine in the shin for ignoring her, but she's scared of bloody dinosaurs on a plaster? There are some things I'll never understand. Well, thanks, bye Teef."

"Wait! One last thing!"

"_What is it now?_" To Tifa's delight he sounded really pissed off.

"Watch your mouth around the kid's," she scolded.

There was a long sigh, followed by, " Yeah, Yeah. Now I definitely know it's you Marlene's gettin' it from."

The phone clicked and Tifa sighed, he had been too preoccupied with the kids to realise she wasn't telling him everything. Checking her watch, for the call had taken longer than expected, she realised there was still five minutes before she would have to join the queue for the boats. Looking around she spied a stand selling coffee and pastries, which was great for her grumbling stomach, but there was still no Vincent, which was not so great for her nerves. _What did he need to get anyway? The ammunitions shop is on this side of Junon._

"What'll it be Miss?" When the tender was done wiping the bench, he looked up and made an undecipherable face at Tifa.

She noticed but continued, "One café au lait and two Choco-chocolate croissants please."

After handing over the gil, the brunette shot the staring tender another dirty look and sat on a nearby bench; the bag of pastries around her wrist and a cup of coffee in the same hand. She could see the boat queue dwindling down from here as she ate and shot a worried look at her watch. _What is Vincent playing at? _It was now five past eight, if he didn't hurry up the boat would leave without them. It was only luck it had been held-back a while before docking.

The terrible thought that he had maybe left her came back, and she found that it soon became anger.

Another few minutes passed._That idiot! How dare he! _Tifa was now gripping the edge of the bench so hard that the wood began to splinter. Realising there was no point in waiting, she secured the bag of half-croissants to her wrist and dropped the coffee cup in a bin on the way to the docks. She could get the boat on her own.

3

"Right. Bye." Vincent waited until his companion rounded the corner before setting off down the back-alley towards the main street of Junon. He had five minutes to find Tifa and board before he got left behind, Tifa probably wouldn't wait for him if he was late.

The alley was shaded from the sunlight by several tall, stacked buildings on both sides. It was concealed well enough for its purpose, but now it produced a dangerous situation. Boxes, bins, skips and other large debris littered the narrow pathways, which, save for the odd stray cat or dog sniffing through trash, were completely devoid of life. The market had attracted away the usual thieves, mako addicts and dealers, and Junon mafia that generally populated this scummy labyrinth of back alleys and passages.

The quiet atmosphere was unsettling, and every few minutes something would rustle or squeak in the trash that edged Vincent ever-closer to the brink of firing Cerberus, who was once more comfortably nestled in his hand. In the other hand he bore a heavy package of brown paper and twine.

"Stop Valentine."

And he did stop. But he also turned around.

"Drop the weapon." A man in black fatigues, just as the others had been, stood not three feet from Vincent holding a rifle to his eye with both hands.

Vincent just smirked, "No."

The man looked taken aback, and shifted slightly from one foot to the other before forcing aggression into his voice, "Drop it now, or-" He stopped when Vincent chuckled and chanced a step forward.

And another.

And another, until he was a dangerous foot away from the man who was now angrily leering.

"Or?" Vincent spoke quietly, edged with violent venom and darkest amusement, "Or you'll _shoot _me?"

"I will! Don't test me you twisted bastard!" The soldier proceeded to shake the rifle psychotically at him.

Again Vincent's sinful chuckles echoed in the small space.

"What's so funny, wise guy! I _said _drop the weapon!" He screamed angrily, almost foaming at the mouth with hatred.

"Which one?" He offered the bait.

The man looked confused, "What do you mean, 'which one'? There only is fucking one!"

"Would like me to drop this one?" He dropped Cerberus loathingly to the floor.

"Or…?" There was momentary silence as they stared at one another.

Then the soldier's face contorted in horror.

The pale frame of Vincent's cheekbones twitched inhumanly and he unwillingly hunched over. Blood enflamed his body, saturated the leather. There were bone crunching cracks and snaps and the soldier knew whatever was tearing through from the inside would not be pretty.

And he was right.

Huge. A tower of muscle. Biceps like great redwoods, forearms like great lumpy columns and he didn't even want to look at the genitals.

Pidgeon chested, the arrogant posture of a great barbarian.

And there were _wings_, thin flaps of patchy, holy skin coated with a down of barbed hairs. They looked unfit to support the weight of a wind-blown leaf. _So many_ bulbous veins knotted and gnarled around the branches of bones, like shrink-wrapped intestines. And yet they were so thin, so brittle, so breakable looking.

And the pulse was pumping through them like a thousand maggots squirming beneath the surface.

"Or this one?" The grumble sloshed through tingling, salivating fangs.

Engulfed with the winged sight, the soldier continued to stare, hypnotised by the blood-hungry gaze of what was once Vincent Valentine. Vincent Valentine, 'the hardest bounty to collect for ShinRa', and now he knew why.

Vincent felt Chaos battling to overcome him, but _his_ willpower was second to none when he thought of ShinRa. He felt his fangs _throb _with the_ need_ to rupture the quaking soldier's broad neck; the gritty hatred to gouge the widening eyes from his head and strip the pitted skin from his face.

He would enjoy this kill himself. He _hated_ ShinRa. And he knew ripping this disgusting piece of it limb from limb would fill a hole of anger he couldn't satisfy.

It was _so _sinfully delicious.

4

Tifa stood on the deck, watching with increasing anger each and every passenger that filed aboard. The snot-nosed kid throwing a tantrum at her father, the pompous business man shunting an old lady from the queue as he tried to reach the rest of his group, and some greasy teenagers throwing stones at a stray dog on the dock below.

Feeling ready to explode as a guard walked past the blatant display of animal cruelty without so much as a glare at the offenders. When she was about to walk up and tell them all they should be ashamed of themselves, a hand landed on her shoulder.

Knowing instantly who it was, but jumping anyway, she snarled, "_Vincent! What _did I tell you about _creeping up on me_!"

He said nothing, looking neither amused nor apologetic but silently watched as her lips quaked with the deep breath she took.

Then she spoke almost too sweetly, "_Where_ where you?"

"I got a little… held up. I'm sorry."

He was sure she was about to unleash what he had come to call 'a woman's fury', (which usually left him fearing for only the safety of his eardrums), when a strange expression overtook her face. The red glow of her cheeks paled and she came closer to him. He instinctively stepped back.

"Vincent? Your face!" Tifa touched her cheek bone and pointed to him. There was three inch gash across his cheek oozing blackened blood.

He just looked puzzled, then touched his face. When the glove came away his fingertips where coated with sticky blood. Expecting a serious reaction, she looked confused when he just shrugged and wiped his glove on the crimson cloak that was billowing with the wind.

The brunette stepped closer to inspect the wound, gripping his wrist to stop him from fleeing the close proximity. She held his wrist (though it was painful with gunwound still unhealed.) the same way he had when he pulled through Edge, and his eyes stayed fixed to the limb as she fussed at the wound with the other hand. "It's so deep," she whispered.

He wondered whether she could smell the blood from his breath. He could still taste it.

"It would have to be." He looked her in the eye, and she had enough sense to take the hint and drop it. The subject and his arm.

"We should go inside, the boats leaving now."

5

As they walked into the lounge Tifa noticed a passer-by who was quite obviously staring at her and Vincent. When they entered the café area a few seated occupants gave covert stares too. They took a booth in the corner, choosing to sit opposite each other. Tifa produced her bag and started nibbling on the croissants. She noticed Vincent watching her.

"What? …Oh, sorry, did you want some?" She thrusted half a pastry towards him, whilst awkwardly chewing the other.

"No. I just don't your allowed to eat that here." He replied, opening a newspaper that was on the table and splaying it out in front of him.

"What are they going to do? _Shoot me?_" Tifa laughed, but stopped when she noticed the look on Vincent's face. He suddenly looked a whole lot paler, and startled, which was a first. "What?"

He looked back down at his paper, "Nothing."

Knowing she wasn't going to get it out of him, Tifa continued eating, and trying to read his paper upside-down. Only several minutes passed before she spoke again. Though the silence was eating at her nerves again and leaving her too much time to think, she was sure the strange looks several seated passengers had given her were not paranoia.

Trying not to attract anymore attention she whispered across the table, "Vincent?"

He didn't look up and Tifa just rolled her eyes. "Vincent I think there are ShinRa here."

"And why do you think that?" Vincent already knew there where none on boat, he had watched carefully as each passenger boarded. She seemed to always underestimate his Turk background severely, training with Bergen had sharpened his skills to perfection and they had not grown soft over the years.

"I keep noticing certain people staring at us. Like that man, to the left, with the bowler hat; the one in the grey suit. They must be waiting for us to get off the boat."

"That's not why they are staring."

She looked confused, "Then why-"

"Your face is covered in bruises."

That's when it clicked like a slap to the face. All those stares weren't because they were contemplating various means of abduction but because she looked like a human punch-bag. So she _was _being paranoid. _Now_ she was glad Vincent's face was still buried in the paper.

Vincent watched as Tifa lay down across the cushioned seat, still avoiding her left arm. _She won't be able to use it yet, _he thought as he glanced at the package on his knee. He spent the next few moments watching her wriggle as she slept and then reached across to drape his cloak across her. He was too warm.

He looked at the parcel again and wondered if she'd be any good. _Perhaps, this could be more hazardous than helpful. _

For the rest of the journey Vincent continued to read an article on Rufus ShinRa's reformation of character. The cynicism he earned only through experience showed through in his eyes as he read each word.

…_Rufus ShinRa, former president of the ShinRa conglomerate, has shown a remorseful side today with his announcement to sponsor and build a new solar energy plant in each town and city that was affected by the loss of mako energy… _

Since when did a ShinRa have a conscience? A lack of morals was something consistently inherent in every ShinRa Vincent had known, so he was not so gullible as to believe such a fairytale. Perhaps when he was younger, his naïve attempts to see the best in everyone would have blinded him to the truth. The truth that ShinRa where still active behind the scenes and that this stunt was just some kind of mass cover-up.

_Fungus, _he thought and closed the paper in disgust.

6

Two hours later, the announcement that they had arrived was made. Tifa was still asleep. Vincent was looking warily at her, deciding which way to wake her.

"Tifa." The noise of the passengers droned out his voice, so he walked over to the other side of the table, box still in hand. Reaching down, he almost felt bad for waking her, at least the bruises on her face had faded slightly more. When his hand brushed her shoulder, she looked sleepily at him and stood up, croaking, "Are we there?"

He nodded.

"Thanks Vincent." She gave him a meaningful look and he got the distinct impression she was thanking him for more than just waking her. Maybe for the lend of his cloak. But he only gave her it because he was too warm wearing it, gratitude was unnecessary.

They departed the boat, Tifa still with the cloak wrapped around her and Vincent still carrying the brown-paper box. It was mid-afternoon, and Vincent supposed Tifa would be pleased to know Cid was waiting for them with his airship. He had made one last phone call before leaving Junon. Cid, who had just only returned from Cosmo Canyon, was only too pleased to have a drinking partner available again. At least one that provided him with a bit of a challenge.

Vincent smirked, remembering their last binging session, when Cid, deciding he wanted some tea at four o'clock in the morning, almost blew the espresso machine apart. Vincent let a covert yawn escape his lips, he was quite tired himself and was looking forward to whatever drinking game Cid would engineer this visit.

As they continued along the boardwalk of Costa Del Sol, neither noticed the man in the bowler hat and grey suit produce a cell phone, slowly tracing their steps from a safe distance.


	6. Changes

Disclaimer; I do not own Final Fantasy VII, or any of its characters, etc.

Well, it's been such a long time since I've updated. School comes first I'm afraid, and A-level revision is hard. (At least it is for me ) I've been taking breaks from my studies to slowly replay FFVII- an hour at a time is a snail's pace- and I've found a lot of inspiration for detail and characterization. I already know where the plots going, its all mapped out, (thank goodness, 'cause I have a tendency to lose myself sometimes).

I will be (fingers crossed) updating regularly again, snapping between my stories on the odd occasion, but the majority on this story for now. I want to thank everyone who reviewed; it really helped me get my ass into gear XD. I have to give Savvy Savie a warm-hearted thanks and a big kiss 'cause she helped fix a good portion of this way back when I'd started this chapter. Unfortunately I haven't had a chance to chat with her, cause I'm rarely online, so if you're reading this I hope to talk soon .

I owe a lot of reviews at the moment so tomorrow after my Japanese lessons I'm gonna sit down and read till the words are burned into my closed eyelids and I'm reciting fan fiction in my sleep. (Gonna need a big pot of tea…mmmm).

I hope everyone had a lovely Easter and made good use of great weather (if you were lucky enough to get it) and I can empathize with everyone stuck indoors studying.

Sorry I didn't reply to all my reviewers, I'm making an effort to reply to as many as possible because I really am grateful for your responses. Thank you!

**Chapter 6: Changes**

1

They walked between high walls, with no windows, towards the centre of Costa del Sol. Tifa noticed the narrow walkway was littered with, some shattered, some whole, dirty-peach roof tiles- a half-chewed bird's nest still crusted onto the underside of one- and she kept glancing at the roofs above, certain one would fall with the next gust of wind.

It was hot enough to crack the patches of mud under their feet into fragile, furled-edge jigsaws, and the distant corridors and enclosed horizons were blurred with thick swaying vapours. So when Tifa handed the cloak back to Vincent, she was surprised to watch him return the garment to his shoulders. She could tell by the flush of his scratchy cheeks that he wasn't comfortable but offered no comment.

Had it been Cloud, the mothering gene would have kicked in. The one that she couldn't explain but hated none-the-less – mothers were sweet and caring and unselfish, and she could play it that way if she wanted, when she wanted. But truer in her heart was the barmaid who knew every way to twist a liquor and squeeze a tip; the girl who knew martial arts, wasn't afraid to walk the alleys and gang districts in the day-less slums, and knew every cheap trick it took to earn a free supper.

It was a long wait till next day's dinner rations and if the punter's wanted a free pinch of a happy barmaid then a five-finger discount off of the nearest food stall was the least they could do.

_But it all changed when Cloud came back.__That's when I became 'mother' more than lover, and a leaning post before a fighter. That's when I _had_ to become responsible, because he needed me. And I knew… I wasn't just looking out for myself anymore_, Tifa thought.

…a_nd now there's Marlene and Denzel too._

2

Tifa had imagined spotty teenagers, in stuffy uniforms, serving hotdogs and ice-cream from under parasols, kids wailing and red-faced with heat and sticky lolly juice, the cat calls of the drunks perusing the volley ball team from the outdoor bar, and every nationality on Gaia to be squashed into the courtyards, shops and inns.

But, as she and Vincent entered the resort centre, what lay before them was substantially different. It would seem, much like the clematis that draped the stone walls of the plazas, the tourist trade had shrivelled under the economic stress of meteor. Rebuilding the pits of life ShinRa and meteor had created was a costly business, no one had a budget for a sea-side holiday anymore. Those visiting the Costa _wouldn't_ be stopping, just passing on to greener pastures.

Heading north-east from the docks, they eventually neared the central plaza. It had once been filled with magnificent mosaics, murals and statues, and great clay pots from the size of small garden ponds to shallow potholes. But now the plaza had tufts of brown weeds between its cobbles and thick, waxy grasses had uprooted entire clods of the walkways.

They paced closer and as the area opened from the narrow corridors between the houses, a warm gust beat the thick dusts against their skin. (Tifa guessed it was a westerly wind as it brought the faint scent of burning coal and blinding grit from the re-established coal valleys of North Corel) It died as sudden as it blew, and left a half-hinged shutter banging the window frame it clung to.

Tifa watched Vincent carefully, expecting shock or some gesture of surprise, but seeing only the reverent quiet on his features that one expects at a funeral, remembered he had probably already been here since meteor hit. S_trange how it's become a marking point in time, everything's either pre-meteor or post-meteor… pre-Cloud or post-Cloud…_

Distant hissing, the tinny clatter of thin steel bin lids and a loud _waow _of a wild cat reminded Tifa that- as far as she could tell- she and Vincent were the only people here. The rest of the passengers went north, (wisely) avoiding the town. She had watched them pass under the loose-bricked bridge, that, as far as she was concerned, didn't look up to the next half-assed beat of wind to blow its way, and held her breath on asking Vincent why the hell they where headed in the opposite direction to everyone else.

Tifa looked at the buildings again, _I'd ask Vincent to stop for a rest in one of these shacks, if I wasn't sure it was gonna fall down around me the second I opened the door._ The lack of 'human' noise was unnerving, and each breath of wind raised goose pimples on her flesh.

Tifa had not only anticipated the crowds of the Del Sol she remembered; she had been ready to do a duck-and-cover out of town to avoid being seen by Marlene, Denzel and Barret. But the place looked desolate and deserted. _So where are Barret and the kids staying? They can't be staying in one of these buildings, _

By relative standards she figured they were safer with Barret than with her, if ShinRa were involved the kids were better away from her and them. She would phone Cloud when they reached rocket town and hope he'd made it to Yuffie without interference, then they'd meet up and… she wasn't sure where things would go from there. Planning too ahead was a waste of time, not when so many things could go wrong.

"Vincent, how long has it been like this?" She walked towards a window, smudged the dirt from a pane and tried to see in. It was empty save a few upturned barrels and some fat monstrosities that could have been rats or cats. _The judge is still out on that one_, she thought…_ at least someone made use of the bodybuilder's protein packs._

Vincent watched, outwardly unperturbed, but he could not help feeling a sense of loss. Almost half a century ago, on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, he had fled home (as young men, old enough for itchy feet, but still a few years shy of a grounding sense of responsibility, were apt to do) and spent his time waiting tables in this once eclectic and exotic area. It had been before the surge of tourism, when the true, swarthy Solians were the only inhabitants, save a few experienced travellers with humble packs and bow-backed mares.

The money he had made then allowed him to travel onto Midgar, via a second boat crossing that once connected the reclusive beach town to the trade of a city. Thanks to those few months of sweaty nights and sunburnt siestas, he had also been able to afford accommodation and food during his Turk training.

Looking back Vincent realized it was a turning point in his life; lack of money, the isolation of speaking a language unknown to the locals, and keeping shared living quarters meant learning to live without reliance on family. It had been the death of his boyhood and the beginnings of the man he would become.

Looking at the place now, it truly was a tomb… _Ruins, _he thought._ The ruins of _my _world… a world four decades past._

He knew that whatever loss Tifa was mourning, was from the Costa del Sol of another world, and it made him feel as old as he really was.

An old soul trapped in a young body.

Not only was it claustrophobic, accepting so many realities in one scientifically extended lifetime, but it was lonely and abrupt without the in-between knowledge of his before and after. Like two pieces of a puzzle with edges that didn't quite match, were a little too jagged, a little too harsh.

Those thirty years that he would never experience, meant events had been dusted over and closure had been found for those involved, a closure that he would forever be without. The wound was still raw to him and there was no-one left from his before- no one who would understand.

His eyes followed Tifa as she sat at the fountain in the centre of the plaza. "It's been this way since I first visited, just after meteor… although there were still _some_ inhabitants then." Vincent answered, scanning for any signs of life in the boarded windows and the deserted passages between each building. It wasn't an action he was aware of; it was the instincts of a Turk.

"So where are all the people?" Tifa was picking at the grout between the dirty, turquoise tiles. She held an unaccountable reluctance, and she was refusing to meet his eyes.

"The area just north of here. Along the northern stretches of beaches, the town has become more urbanized and that's where the majority of the population now resides." He watched her closely, _that_ wasn't really what she wanted to ask; there was obviously something else.

"So… if… the kids?" She finally lifted her head to stare at him. She hadn't wanted to seem like an over-worrying mother around this man who seemed to hold no ties or commitments to anyone (being considered a 'mother' was still an issue she was uncomfortable with herself). She was afraid he would find it either amusing or ridiculous.

"Yes, they would be staying in that area too. I know Reeve has a small cottage just skirting the town, Barret has probably decided to stay there."

She nodded and stood, dusting off her backside, "So shouldn't we be going?"

"I have arranged to meet someone here." She slumped back down.

Vincent walked closer, the brown package clutched at his side and eyes snapping from one backstreet passage to another. He almost smiled when her eyes narrowed and she looked up holding a tight pouted, suspicious expression. "Someone we _know_?"

He smiled slightly but said nothing.

He was goading her. Her jaw twisted and she said no more, for she knew _he_ would say no more and she wasn't prepared to play these games with him.

Instead she focused on the few bulbous ants that were frying alive on the cobbles. As she was debating throwing a leaf over the dying insects instead of watching their suffering, she picked up a low drone somewhere in the distance and felt an itchy tickle in her eardrums. The sensation of the humming vibrations was something akin to a feather duster tracing her inner ear and she held her jaw tight to stop the rattle of her teeth. By the quiver of the cartiledge in her neck, she knew her voice would come out as though her chin was resting on the small washing machine, behind the bar, back in Edge.

She tried to make out which direction this... feeling, more than a sound, was coming from but soon gave up, figuring it was getting closer, louder and irritatingly stronger. She'd find out soon enough.

Vincent was unravelling the ends of the twine, which bound the parcel in arms, with the points of two claws. She had noticed the package as they left the boat at the docks and had been theorising over its contents ever since. But Tifa knew Vincent well enough to know there was no point in asking, he would only tell her when he was ready.

Eventually Tifa gave in to temptation and scratched her inner ear (as best she could with blunt nails- long nails were too difficult to maintain, and she was a working girl, they just weren't practical). The drone had grown steadily louder, like an alien silence blanketing everything until the stirrings of wind began to whip at the streets and the dust rose, and the browned leaves like tan-hide leather spat in all directions.

Vincent's eyes tautened with humour as, with one finger still in ear; a completely dumbfounded expression overcame her.

"You _called_ Cid?" She smiled giddily and clapped her hands together.

"Yes."

"Thank you Vincent!" Tifa said happily, gently rubbing her bruised and still swollen nose. Perhaps Cid would have some restore materia aboard, or a potion she could dab on.

"Did you think _I_ wanted to walk all the way Rocket town?" He asked calmly, crossing his arms in an awkward gesture whilst not dropping the package.

Her smile softened but she continued to squint at him under the glare of the sun. "No, I suppose you didn't, Vincent." And then she looked away to the approaching airship.

And he was grateful.

3

"Well fuck me sideways Teef! What the hell happened to you?" Was the colourful icebreaker from Cid as they stepped aboard 'the Shera'.

Had he been a lesser pilot, his hands may have momentarily slipped from the wheel in shock at her haggard, beat-up appearance, but Cid's meaty fists only gripped the hand smoothed wood tighter. Even the smallest of falters when at the helm of a ship could result in a life-threatening situation; the ability to maintain awareness and remain alert to all possibilities through distraction was what separated the men from the boys, the student from the professional.

And cid was nothing if not professional. _After all, they don't call me 'Captain' for nothing,_ he thought, as he waited for Tifa to reply and kept an eye on the dials to his left and the burning horizon beyond the roof-to-floor glass windows of the cabin.

"I, uh-" Tifa looked over to Vincent for help, and heard Cid chuckle gruffly when she growled at the smug amusement he had the good grace –or intelligence- to aim at a nearby wall.

"So?"

"_So_? What's that supposed to mean Cid, aren't you happy to see me?" Tifa asked, frowning with a futile roll of the eyes at what they both knew was a completely transparent change of subject.

"Of course I'm happy to see ya Teef. I was just wonderin' why you're hangin' around with this shit." Cid glanced over to Vincent, smiling the taunt through a puff of his cigarette. Then after catching a twitch of Vincent's cheek – something Tifa hadn't noticed before but Cid seemed to accept as 'fuck you too' (the wide grin that broke his cement-dust skin meant there was a use of swearing somewhere)- he turned back to her. "And now I'm wonderin' why you look like you've gone ten rounds with Sephiroth himself."

She laughed, for lack of any other reaction and posed out a Cloud-like itch behind the neck, "I, uh, it's a long story. I'm not all that sure myself to be honest. How much did Vincent tell you?"

"He told me jack-all, tight lipped bastard." Smoke flared from his nostrils, the deep pores of his nose the angry, red chap of a well-worn pilot. He didn't bother looking over at Vincent this time, but as she was facing him Tifa caught the twitch of his cheek and smiled.

"Well, like I said it's a long story Cid."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is Teef. I'm sure it is." He threw the wheel a strong left, she threw an arm out on a nearby counter to steady herself, and then he looked back to her, "and it's a long journey back, so how bout you entertain an old fella', huh?"

She crossed her arms, chewing her lip, but she finally relented, conveniently leaving out the embarrassing details of Vincent's moonlit break in.

A good hour and a half later, Tifa finally sat down with an irritated glance to the unhelpfully silent Vincent beside her. Cid's face ran between confused, angry and utter exasperation at the fact that it had been just one thing after another for the past five years. And ShinRa was always at the centre of it all.

Despite a sense of adventure as grand as Cosmo canyon itself, Cid was getting old enough to know age was becoming a factor to consider.

Although, going down fighting was welcome ending in his romantic mind.

"Fuck." Was his first word, "Why?" was his second.

Tifa looked up; shrugged and looked over at Vincent, somewhere behind him she could make out the northern face of the Nibel Mountains and knew Rocket town was close. But that wasn't all she noticed.

Vincent's initial vagueness, she had assumed, was out of haste towards a quick getaway- then for a lack of privacy and his dicey attitude at Junon Harbour and Costa Del Sol. But now he had the perfect opportunity to voice his thoughts and he was _still_ evading their conversation.

_He's hiding something, _she thought. _He knows something and he's not telling. _ On that thought, Tifa turned away from him, an action translating to 'I'm not talking to you because you're being a prick.'- but she knew he wouldn't notice, and if he did he wasn't likely to try and fix it. He'd spent most of the journey hushing her and when she started with the question and answer sessions he'd start rubbing his temples as though the prospect of conversation was causing his brain cells to spontaneously combust.

So far only one tactic had worked; one Tifa had had plenty of practice with at Cloud- nagging. _Yes sir, those two have a lot more in common than they think. _

Vincent definitely didn't appreciate her constant yapping in his ear but a little part of her knew this made it all the more enjoyable – a Vincent with fire in his eyes and sinister thoughts percolating in his mind was a lot more interesting than a Vincent with an a 'I could care less' expression constantly stamped across his face.

He also hadn't left her much of a choice. Talking _to_ him was more like an interrogation with a mute, so talking _at_ him was her only option (Tifa didn't think throwing things at his head, like she had sometimes tried with cloud, would be as effective with Vincent).

So what if he didn't like it? Like her daddy always said, 'tough shit, you can't have everything.'


End file.
